


Angel's Demons

by PyschoDelia



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood and Gore, Drug Abuse, F/F, Psychological Horror, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyschoDelia/pseuds/PyschoDelia
Summary: When Angel Dust offends God himself, Jesus is sent down to watch the demon. Meanwhile, Angel is suffering from horrifying hallucinations, and is unsure whether he should ask the Messiah for help. Although, the heaven sent acts rather strange, and Alastor seems to know something...
Relationships: Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 21
Kudos: 38





	1. Nightmares In The Shadows

"This is the _shit_."

The spider demon groaned unsteadily. Painkillers and alcohol weren't usually how he liked to get 'on a roll', but he didn't feel like going out to find anything else. That, and the fact he wasn't allowed to leave the hotel unless he was under 'supervision'. Angel Dust shook another couple of pills out of the bottle and popped them in his mouth, then took a swig of booze to help wash it down. He winced slightly as the alcohol burned down his throat.

On the other side of the couch, Husk groaned himself, replicating the growl of a lawnmower.   
  
"Hell yeah. I could do this all day." He chuckled dazedly. Angel rolled his head over to look at the cat demon. "I think we _have_ been doing it all day. What time is it?" he asked. The elderly feline shrugged. "It look like I'm wearing a watch to you? I ain't got a damn clue." He stretched out on the couch awkwardly, his head hanging over the arm rest and his feet hanging off the seat, beginning to purr slightly as he drank from his own bottle, a gravelly sound like a damaged engine. Angel snickered giddily. "You're purring!"

The noise immediately stopped. Husk raised his head, looking a little sharper then he had a couple seconds ago and looked at Angel Dust irritably. He spoke in the same manner. "To be honest, I don't really care right now. But you promised if I gave you some booze and pills, you'd give me some buck. So pay up."  
  
Angel blinked. "Now? I don't got the cash with me. I'd have to go get it and... I don't really wanna move."

Husk grunted. "Well, you don't pay and I'll tell the girl about this. Not the friendly one. I don't think that crazy spear-waving bitch wants to hear that you're doing shit you're not supposed to."  
  
Angel's head snapped up. "You wouldn't." he growled at Husk. The top-hatted demon did a marvelous impression of the Cheshire Cat with an incredibly smug grin , knowing full well he had gotten one over on Angel Dust. "I would. And probably throw in a couple other things, too. Like that guy you were," he paused to clear his throat, "pleasuring around back a couple nights ago."

Angel was taken aback. "You saw that?" he said dumbfounded.  
  
The old man chuckled. "These eyes don't miss nothing. Sharp as a cat's. They help in the dark, too." He blinked at Angel, showing off his orange feline eyes. Angel gave up. "Alright, fine. I'll get your money. Just wait there." He attempted to rise off the couch, but only succeeded in falling onto the floor. Husk snickered and leaned over the spider demon's face. "Aww, what's the matter?" he patronized. "Tripping over yourself?"

Angel growled at the older demon. "You try walkin' with these things. It ain't easy." He smiled coyly. "But they're nice for wrapping around necks." It was Husk's turn to be surprised. In the short moment his guard was down, Angel gave the gambling addict a peck on the lips. Husk cried out and jerked his head back, allowing the spider demon some space to pick himself off the carpet.  
  
"Looks like I kissed the cat!" Angel sang as he rose to his feet. "What's he gonna do? Claw up my furniture?" He could hear Husk grumbling about ropes and torn flesh from the sofa.

Angel laughed and staggered away, looking for his room. It was proving fairly difficult, as his mind was in a serious state of disarray, swimming and throbbing, thoughts leaving as quickly as they came. He climbed up a set of stairs to a long hallway.

He realized he was somehow still holding the bottle, choking the neck in his grasp. He drank the rest, tipping his head back until his back was arched like a bridge, displaying an impressive show of flexibility.

With a jolt, he realized the hotel's manager was standing behind him, her arms crossed. Vaggie's mouth was upturned into a snarl, revealing razor sharp teeth. Something... red was dribbling from her lips. Her fingers were digging into her arms, drawing blood. The X over her eye was glowing angrily.  
  
Angel dropped the bottle. It fell to the ground and shattered, pieces of glass scattering across the floor, glittering in the light. He whipped around on his heel-  
  
-only to find that no one was there? But that didn't make any sense. Where the hell had she gone? There was no way she could have moved that fast.

He decided to forget it (which wasn't hard to do judging by all the alcohol he had consumed) and continued down the hall, now covered with pieces of green tinted glass.

The hotel had certainly seen better days. Hell if anyone knew what it had been used for before- maybe a theatre?- but it could certainly use some work. This specific part didn't look bad; none of the wallpaper was tearing, the carpet looked more or less intact, and the interior décor was in one piece. Other parts hadn't fared as well. Granted, he hadn't actually seen the other parts, but if a car hanging off a balcony in the lobby was anything to go by, the rest of the place was probably in the same condition.

Angel continued to stumble in his delirium, searching for the door to his room. He spotted it a few feet away, just as he was about to stride past it. Reaching over with his abnormally long body, he grabbed the handle and pushed. The door didn't budge.  
  
He tried again to no avail.

Confused, he let go of the doorknob and bent down to study it. It looked like an average doorknob, perfectly round with no dents or nicks, a rare commodity in the worn-down building.

Angel grabbed the handle again and pushed. Still nothing. Then it hit him- he had to turn the doorknob. He mentally kicked himself and twisted it, pulling instead of pushing. The door opened without any further trouble. Angel stepped into his room, his white hair grazing the doorframe, and shut the door behind him. He quickly adjusted his hairstyle, pulling it back and allowing it to bounce forward again.

The room looked mostly like his old one now, dressers lined up on one side, three mirrors ringed with lights above them and two cushioned seats below. Upon the dressers was a large wig, an ashtray and a jewellery box. Hanging off one of the mirrors was a couple dresses.  
  
A large bed sat across the room from the setup. Part dressing room, part bedroom. A large pink neon sign hanging near the door read 'Love' and below it on the left hung a neon spider web. To the right of the neon web was a large poster taped to the wall.  
  
It was of his pet pig, affectionately named Fat Nuggets- who was now sleeping comfortably on Angel's bed. Ringed around the room were cables adorned with pink and white bulbs not unlike Christmas lights. Directly above the bed was a large board which only read one word in the very center, written in large bold letters- 'BREATHE'.  
  
Angel Dust staggered to the bed and dropped to his hands and knees. He reached under the bed with a hand and began to pull things out, careful not to wake the small pig sleeping on top. An empty bag. He tossed it. A sex toy. Pushed it back under. A large fabric pouch tied off with string, which was what he was searching for.

Angel stood back up and sat on a cushioned seat with the pouch. Untying the bag with a couple hands, he rearranged few things in his jewellery box, ensuring their safe-keeping. Within the bag were rolls of money; fragile paper things that melted if you got caught in the rain with them.  
  
He began to search for a twenty dollar bill to pay the old greedy cat; pulling rolls out, looking at them, and putting them back. He raised one to his eye, and started to sift through it, taking care not to tear the paper. A one. Not what he was looking for. A five, another five, a ten, a one... a twenty. He pulled it out of the roll it resided in, the elastic band stretching as the paper note slid out.

Angel Dust placed the roll- now free of a twenty dollar bill- back in its pouch, slid the pouch back under the bed, and left the room. He walked back down the hall, fanning himself the note, though it wasn't hot. Just uncomfortable.

His vision was starting to swim, and he was getting very dizzy. _Is this supposed to happen?_ he asked himself. _I don't think that stuff was supposed to do this. Maybe I should've payed attention to that warning._ He was referring to the warning on the bottle, against using opioids with alcohol- the exact thing he had just done.

Angel's head began to throb. Something was wrong. This wasn't the pills, or alcohol. He could feel his stomach churning

Then things just got plain weird- and frightening.

Things were growing from the shadows, monsters more grotesque than Angel had seen in Hell (although, there was a fair chance that at least someone looked like something drawn by Will Burke). Demonic ragdolls, their mouths stitched into crude smiles and black pits where their eyes should have been. Dark liquid leaking out while they giggled with insanity, wielding knives and other sharp weapons.

Black smoke began to rise off the carpet. Tendrils of shadow reached out of it, wrapping themselves around the spider demon's ankles. He kicked them away but there were too many, dozens of little black snakes. They coiled up his legs and around his waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Caught as a boa constrictor catches a rat, just before strangling the life out of its insignificant little body. That's how Angel felt now, a rodent about to be crushed to death.

A figure grew from the smoke at Angel's feet. Clothed in red and ludicrously tall. It was Alastor, his antlers stretching high in the air. His smile was in natural proportion... if it weren't for the fact a knife had been sliced up the sides of his face, grey skin hanging over and bleeding, the edges of the cuts stitched. An X was sliced into his forehead, glowing an impossible red.  
  
His eyes... they were empty, dead. Two glowing red pupils in the sockets were slit like a snake's. The monster reached out a hand, blood collecting in his palm and dribbling through his fingers. Alastor rasped, the radio effect on his voice distorted monstrously. " _Care to make a deal...?_ "


	2. Exchanges

Angel shot off the ground with a shout, slapping at tentacles that were never there. He whipped his head around, searching wildly for the monsters that just attacked.  
  
Nothing. Only an average hallway, void of anything and everything. His heart rate slowed, and he began to calm down. Angel realized he was crushing the tender in his hand, and loosened his grip on the note. He sighed, more relieved than anything. _I'm never taking that shit again,_ he thought to himself.

It had been horrifying, monsters worse than the demons that already existed. And he had seen some that were messed up. All that mattered is that they were gone- if they had ever been there to begin with. Angel Dust began to walk down the hall, keeping a careful eye out for anything. In the entrance hall below he spotted Husk, who was still lying on the couch, and the whole event disappeared from his muddled mind.

Husk raised his head when the spider demon got close. "What the hell was that screaming?" he asked. Angel shrugged. "I dunno."  
  
He refused to remember what had just happened. Husk grunted. Angel waved the twenty dollar bill over the old cat's nose. The demon sniffed, and looked up. "I smell money." he said greedily, his eyes snapping open. Angel's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "You can _smell_ money?"  
  
"Sure. Smells like ass and ink."  
  
Husk tried to snatch the paper, only to fall off the couch.

Angel snickered. "What's the matter? Trippin' over yourself?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, very fuckin' funny." Husk grumbled irritably. Angel smiled a little wider. "Yeah, it is pretty funny." He raised the twenty over Husk's face again. The gambler snatched it out of Angel's grip and held it close to his furry chest. "Alright, you got your cash. Happy now?" Husk grinned again. "Fine and dandy."

Angel sat down on the couch- now vacant as Husk was lying on the floor, slipping the tender into his hat. Good place as any, considering it was always on his head. Angel Dust grabbed another bottle of booze and raised it to his mouth. He faltered, as a bad gut feeling had just come over him. He was sure it had something to do with... something. He couldn't remember what it had been, and why it seemed to be bothering him. He set the bottle back down. "I'm going out," he said, rising from the sofa. Husk grunted from the floor, in his own drunken world.

Angel stalked down the dark alley ways, avoiding anyone and everyone. He wanted some fresh air, and to try and walk off the influence the killers and alcohol had on him. So far, nothing was getting better, but he hadn't tripped over anything (or himself) so maybe it was improving. He carried a bag with him. It was empty, but not for long. The place he was looking for was supposed to be a couple more alleys down.

The ways themselves were just a bit more messy than the hotel's entrance hall. Instead of crates there was trash, and instead of furniture strewn about, there were piles of rubble that had come from who knew where. Still, it was preferable. Much more open out here.

Angel turned left onto the next alley way. Same as the other one. A rat skittered away on its six legs, squeaking in fear. _More scared of us then we are of them,_ he thought. _Not me, though. Stupid rodents._  
  
He continued down the alley, and stopped at a door. It was rusted around the edges, and there was a small slot at eye level. Average eye level anyway, as Angel Dust's eyes were well above the doorframe. He leaned down and knocked on the door in quick segments, just as the guy had told him. One, one, two, one, two.

The slot opened and a set of yellow eyes looked back at him. They widened, and Angel heard whoever was in there mutter to himself, " _Holy shit._ " The slot snapped shut with a click. He could hear locks being unlatched and chains being removed. After a moment of silence, the door creaked open outwards. An imp with straight horns stood there, wearing a sleeveless vest and a worn pair of jeans. His feet were bare, revealing hooves.

Shock was painted on the shopkeeper's face. " _Angel Dust? The porn star?_ " he asked incredulously. Angel smiled and nodded. "That's me, sugar. I'm here to buy some goods. I don't suppose you got some in stock?"

The imp stuttered. "Y-yeah, we got some stuff, come in, come in." He stepped aside, allowing passage for the porn star. Once the tall demon was inside, he rose up and looked around as the door was shut behind him.  
  
The place wasn't impressive, but places like this usually weren't. It looked like an old warehouse, dusty shelves lined with boxes and a concrete floor. The red demon stepped in front of Angel. "Come with me, please." he said, a little shakily as the imp was still surprised. Angel guessed the hellborn wasn't this polite with all the customers.

The shopkeeper led him past shelves, none of which were empty. "Got a lot of stuff here." Angel noted. The imp turned and grinned, revealing a neat set of white and razor-sharp teeth. "Yeah, we always got supplies coming in. Haven't run out of anything since 1982. Well, we had a shortage of shotgun shells in... 1993, but it didn't last long." The spider demon nodded to himself, half listening as he looked around.

To Angel's surprise, he realized the imp's tail was gone, a mere stub on his back. Before he could take a closer look, they turned the corner, which led to a counter. The demon stepped behind it, accumulating a more business-like air. The name on the counter read 'Isaac'.

"So, what are you looking for?" The shopkeeper- Isaac- asked. Angel turned back to him, having been studying the warehouse. "I'm looking for something... 'hot'. Got anything?"

The imp smiled. "Ah. You must be referring to our Molotovs. We got plenty of those. Would you like a single or a pack? The pack contains six and a lighter if you don't have one." Angel thought on it. "Er, I'll go with the pack. I'd like two drums as well if you got 'em."  
  
"Tommy?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Alright. That it?" Isaac asked.  
  
Angel nodded again. "Yeah, that's it." he confirmed. Isaac smiled again. "I'll get that to you right away, sir." He leaned back and yelled through another door. "Hey, Frankie?" he called.   
  
A deeper voice answered from within, with a heavy Australian accent. "Yeah?"  
  
"We need a pack of mollies and two Tommy drums. Can you get 'em?"  
  
"Sure. I'll be out in a second."

A muscular demon stepped out of the door, nearly as tall as Angel. He wore the same apparel as Isaac, and his body was covered in blue scales. His face was the skull of a deer, with glowing green eyes and a large set of antlers. The demon had a tail with the head of a snake on the end. It slipped its tongue in and out, smelling the air. The corners of its mouth were upturned in a cruel smile, its eyes glowing red. Its yellowed fangs hung out dragging along the floor.

The burly man stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on the customer. His jaw bone dropped open. " _Angel Dust?_ My god. Is this _real?_ " he asked the imp in disbelief. Isaac chuckled. "Yeah, man. It's real. Can you get that stuff?" Frankie's mouth opened and closed for a second, then he simply said "Sure". He stepped around the counter and disappeared down a hallway. Isaac laughed. "He's a big fan. We love your stuff. You are very good at what you do."

Angel looked down at the red demon and smiled. "Thanks, I uh... I appreciate that. Usually I just get creepy letters from fans." Isaac winced. The two stood quietly for a moment, and the imp asked Angel a question to break the silence. "So, uh... what are you doing with this stuff anyway?" Angel blinked at him. "The mollies? Right now, I'm not sure." He genuinely wasn't sure what he was going to do with the things he was buying.

Angel inquired the shopkeeper. "So, what're you and Saxton over there doing here in Pentagram City? Don't see many of you guys around." Isaac sighed. "Well, business isn't so good where we are. Not many people come in looking for guns, surprisingly. It's not _quite_ as hectic over there. So we moved shop here, and business is going pretty well."  
  
"As for Frankie," he continued, "I just ran into him one day. Kid was scared shitless; I'm pretty sure he'd fallen out of the sky only a few hours before." he chuckled. "I explained to him what was going on, and offered him a job. He was big, and I needed a weight lifter. Someone who could carry a lot of stuff at one time, as well as their own weight. So it worked out alright."  
  
Angel looked at him and smiled. "Good for you. At least somebody's thrivin' in this shithole." Isaac tilted his head inquisitively. "What do you mean by that?" he asked. It was Angel's turn to sigh. "Ever since I started at that hotel, I ain't been able to get anything done. Haven't been able to do any shoots. I can only make cash on the street here and there, even though technically I'm not supposed to."   
  
Isaac placed a hand over Angel's- a surprising gesture, as Angel had literally just met the man less then five minutes ago.  
  
"Hey man, don't worry about it. I'm sure you can get things running again." Angel smiled half-heartedly. "Thanks. But I doubt it." Isaac thought for a second, then spoke. "If you can't get any money in, why did you sign up for the hotel? I saw that interview on the news a while ago. Didn't look so good."

Angel answered, a little quickly. "It was a free room? I dunno. Didn't feel like living in a shitty apartment no more. That and a couple personal reasons I don't wanna get into." The imp nodded understandingly. Angel opened his mouth to ask what had happened to the imp's tail, only for the other demon- Frankie- to come around the corner again, Angel's order in his arms. Isaac quickly let go of Angel's hand. Frankie set the supplies down on the counter. "Here you go, boss. That should be everything."   
  
He reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a pen and paper. He held them out to Angel a little nervously. "I uh, don't suppose you could sign this?" he asked tentatively as Isaac punched the numbers into a register.

Angel took the pen and paper from Frankie's outstretched hands and signed it quickly, slightly bemused. "There you go." he said as he handed it back to the scaled demon with a smile. "Thank you, Mr. Dust!" Frankie ran with glee back into the room behind Isaac and yelled, his tail staring blankly as its fangs dragged along the concrete floor. "Ha! Eat shit, Robbie! Oh, I can't wait to see the look on that smug bastard's face!"   
  
Isaac smiled again. "He's got a brother down here, too. They don't get along from what he tells me," the imp explained. The register dinged. "Alright, that will be $46.30. But because of your... _status,_ I'm gonna give you a 30% discount, which comes to..." He punched a couple numbers and the register dinged again. "$32.40."

"That ain't too bad." Angel said as he dug through the pouch he had with him. He handed Isaac a thirty and three ones. The imp gave him some change back, which Angel dropped back into the pouch and closed off. He set the bag down on the counter. "I'd like it in the bag, if you don't mind." he said. "Sure," said Isaac as he began to place the box of Molotovs carefully into the bag. "These are home made, you know." he said. "Fresh from Frankie's brother's brewery."

Angel looked up. "I thought they didn't get along?" he asked the imp. Isaac laughed. "Oh, Robbie has no idea." he said with a curt smile. He handed the bag back to Angel. "There you go," he said. "I'll lead you out. Can't afford to have anyone we don't want running in." Angel watched him as he stepped around the counter.  
  
He began to follow the imp as he walked back through the shelves. "Then why did you let me in?" he questioned. "Because of who you are." came the response. "We only sell to those who know the knock and have money to pay. We've tried to make it easier by dropping the prices but that doesn't always do it. We still got guys trying to break in and steal all the time. Fortunately, Frankie's good at keeping them out."

"Anyone try recently?" Angel asked. Isaac looked back at him. "Couple weeks ago. Some guy with a bunch of arms wanted in. He said he wanted the goods. Frankie whacked him right back with the door." He thought for a second. "Come to think of it, he looked a bit like you. Just a lot shorter." Angel sighed. "I'll bet you that was my brother. He used to rob places like this. I didn't know he was in town, though."  
  
"Used to?"  
  
"Last time I saw my brother, he was doing it. Well, when we were alive, anyway."  
  
"I don't think he stopped."

They rounded a corner and headed for the door. "If you see him again, tell him his brother says fuck off." Isaac nodded. "Alright, I'll uh, do that." He reached the door and held it open for Angel Dust, who ducked back through the entrance. He turned as the door shut. The slot opened, and he could see the yellow eyes again. "Thanks for the stuff." Angel said. The eyes bobbed up and down as if he was nodding, and a curious look seeped into them. "No problem. You know what you're gonna do with it yet?" 

Angel thought. "Yeah, actually." He looked into the yellow eyes, unblinking.

"I'm gonna burn down a church."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter in Angel's Demons.


	3. An Unholy Raze

Angel left the alleys quickly. He had seemed to sober in the gun shop, but now his thoughts became muddled again. His conscience told him he wasn't thinking clearly, that he should stop what he was doing and go home, throw out the Molotovs and ammunition he held in his hands. He ignored it. He had decided on the spot that he was going to raze a church to the ground. Why? He didn't know.

No, that was a lie. Payback, it was payback that was compelling him to do this. Against 'Him', the so-called Lord, for landing Angel down here. Down in Hell because being gay was a sin, apparently. Ridiculous. Who did He think He was to make the decision that having a wavy line instead of a straight one was morally wrong?

Angel rounded a corner and continued down the street, fuming. Brothels, bars and casinos lined the sidewalks. Hell served every vice you could ask for, which was ironic as sinners were in Hell as a punishment, not a reward. The buildings were in various states of disrepair. Some were only a little worn while others were literally falling apart, practically piles of rubble. As he watched, a window was kicked right out of its frame from the top floor of an apartment, shattering on the pavement. A demon fell out a few seconds later, breaking nearly every bone in his body when he came into contact with the ground.

The thing about the sinners was that they couldn't be killed by any normal measure. The only way was to do it with Heaven forged weapons. They weren't easy to find, and trying to fight an Angel during an extermination for one was suicide. Angel did not have anything like that, but judging from the look of her spear, Vaggie had one.

Angel didn't necessarily hate Vaggie, but he didn't like her either. She was the more forceful of the two, and yelled too much for Angel's liking. Charlie, on the other hand, was very kind and never yelled at him. Even her reprimands weren't that bad. Angel preferred to deal with her rather than her hot-tempered girlfriend. However, he couldn't complain to Charlie about her, because the two were in an intimate relationship.

The demon on the pavement emitted an awful howl. Angel decided to get a move on.

Angel arrived at the church a little while later. It was more of a dark cathedral, black spires towering high into the red sky. The windows were stained glass, showing images of 'holiness'. Angel thought for a minute. Was he one hundred percent sure he wanted to burn this place down? There weren't many, after all. Yes, he decided. Those bastards had it real good up in Heaven. Why should they have anything down here?

Shit, he had made it this far. He wasn't about to back out now. Angel walked up the steps and opened the large wooden doors. He stepped into an empty hall and shut the doors behind him. Angel could hear a voice echoing through the place. _Sounds like mass is in session,_ he thought dryly to himself. He pulled set the bag down and pulled out the box of Molotovs. It was an averaged box, taped shut like a package. He peeled off the tape and opened the box. Six corked bottles of wine and cloths were inside. He lifted the cloths to reveal a lighter underneath. Good thing, because he hadn't brought one.

He studied the lighter. _The pack contains six and a lighter if you don't have one,_ the imp had said. Thanks, Isaac. He flicked the lighter a couple times. A small flame began to burn. He let it go out, and turned to the box. He took out a bottle of wine and uncorked it. He took a small sip. _Take this and drink from it, for this is my blood,_ he thought. He grabbed a cloth and threaded it into the neck, sure to leave a bit of it out of the bottle to light. He did this to the rest of the bottles until each had a cloth sticking out of the neck.

Angel placed each of the bottles back into the box. He pulled out two weapons that he had with him, two Thompson sub machine guns. He loaded them both with a drum. Angel withdrew his third set of arms and picked up the box. Ensuring the guns were cocked and ready to go, he walked to another set of large wooden doors, where the voice was coming from. He could hear a collective Amen from inside. _Amen indeed,_ he thought with a smile.

Angel kicked the doors open, yelling as he did so. "I'M HEEERE!" The voice, belonging to a dark orange demon with large fangs, halted and looked up from the Bible. Every head in the pews turned in his direction.

Angel opened fire on the worshipers, screaming and laughing. Demons began to fall left and right. The bullets wouldn't kill them, but it would hurt for a while. The priest was shot in the head, falling back in a red spray. Angel began to light the Molotovs with a free hand while he fired. He threw one into the pews. It flew in a high burning arc, trailing flames like a firework, and smashed into the pews below, starting a flame. Another one shattered against the wall next to Jesus pinned on the cross, setting the holy symbol aflame. The other four disappeared quickly, into the pews or into unfortunate demons, screeching as their skin burned.

Eventually, there was silence. The worshipers were lying on the ground, bleeding and burning. The cathedral was burning down, but Angel wasn't quite finished. He stalked up to the altar and looked down at the Bible, still intact. The priest was still bleeding on the ground. Angel set the box on the floor and dipped his finger into the growing pool of blood. He placed it on the Bible and painted two words in crimson. Satisfied, he left the altar and began his escape from the cathedral, burning embers raining down like fire and brimstone.

A statue of the Messiah had crashed to the ground. The head had broken off, lying in a heap of rubble next to the entrance. Angel fired a round into it, the head of stone exploding into shards. He ran out the doors, guns in the air. A crowd of rubberneckers had come to watch the event, cellphone cameras rolling. The whole thing would be on the news in no time.

Angel had successfully burned down a church.

The words he had written in blood on the Bible had read something terrible.

It read 'Fuck God'.

God didn't like that very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A holiday gift for everyone reading! I won't have access to my account over the holidays, so I've decided to upload Chapter 3 today!


	4. Straight Down From Heaven

T

The Lord sat on his throne, listening to the frantic rambles of an Angel.

"...right to the ground, Lord! An entire cathedral!" God waved a hand. "Calm down. What happened? Where is this?" He questioned the Angel, who shifted nervously. "In... in Hell, sire." This confused Him. "Hell?" He asked. "Yes, sir." replied the Angel.

The denizen's wings flapped. He wanted to fly away, far away from Him, fearing to be striken down. "How did it happen?" The Lord asked. The Angel looked up at Him. "A demon razed it, sire." God was surprised now. "Razed it?" His subject nodded again. "Yes. But that's not even the worse part." God leaned down, closer to the small terrified denizen. "What?"

The Angel squeaked. "He... he wrote something on the Bible. Something terrible." God stared him down. "What did it say?" He asked. His subject blinked up at him. "Sir, I shall not swear." God leaned back. "Swear? This demon wrote foul language on the Bible?" The Angel's voice was shrill as he spoke to the Lord. "Sir... it was directed at you." God sat up straight. "I will not have this. Find my son, and tell him I need to talk to him."

The winged man nodded and flew off. A short while later, his son arrived. "You called for me, Father?" Jesus looked up at Him, concerned. "Yes, I did. I need you to do something for me." Jesus nodded. "Anything for You, Father." he responded. His Father looked down at him. "I need you to go down to Hell and watch a demon for me," He said. The Messiah looked surprised. "Are you sure? You told me never to go down there."  
"Without my permission. But now, I am giving it to you. Now go."

His son nodded. "Yes, Father."

Angel was back at the hotel in ten minutes. He dumped the guns where he could find them and creeped into the building through a back door. He snuck down the hall and dropped down on the couch, now empty. As soon as he sat down, a very angry manager entered his vision. " _Where the hell were you?_ " Vaggie yelled. "We told you not to go anywhere!" Angel waved her off with a hand. "I was out getting some fresh air," he said dismissively. "I didn't leave. Nothing to worry about."  
"You were gone for an _hour_."  
"It's really dusty in here."  
"An hour!"  
"I was talking to somebody."  
" _Who?_ "  
"Nobody."

She lifted a cellphone towards Angel's face. "So you had nothing to do with _THIS?_ " There was a news report playing on the screen. It was showing footage of a fire. Probably the cathedral he had just burned down. Angel leaned back and shook his head. "Nope. No idea what that's about."

Vaggie groaned. "From now on, you go _nowhere._ " Right after the words came out of her mouth, there was a knock on the door. She turned towards it, and Charlie started zipping down the hallway. "Don't worry, I got it, I got it!" she cried.

Charlie nearly crashed into the doors. Yanking the handle, she began to talk extremely fast. "Hello, welcome to the Happy Hotel, how can I hel-" She cut herself off abruptly. There was silence. "Charlie?" Vaggie asked apprehensively. "Who's there?"

" _Jesus Christ!_ " Charlie exclaimed. Vaggie started towards her girlfriend. "Come on, it can't be that bad." She herself froze when she spotted the man standing outside the door. Now they both stood there in disbelief because standing there was quite literally _Jesus Christ._

Neither of the two women spoke. Angel tilted his head. He had no idea why the two had stopped in their tracks. He stood up. "What's the matter? Is there some other 'high up' there? It ain't Valentino, is it?" He stopped next to Vaggie, who stood behind Charlie's left shoulder. 

What the two girls saw was the Messiah him damn self. What Angel saw was some bearded guy with long hair and white robes. He leaned down and asked Charlie in a hushed voice, "Who's that fella?" Charlie gave no response. She didn't even move.

Jesus smiled awkwardly. He smacked his lips. "Are... you going to invite me in or..." He shifted uncomfortably. Two of the demons had been shocked. He was guessing the white faced girl with red cheeks was supposed to be Lucifer's daughter. His Father had told him about her. He didn't recognize the shorter woman with grey skin. However, the ludicrously tall one with four arms (who seemed to have no idea who he was) stood out pretty well.

The demon must have been somewhere around eight feet, because he towered over the two women, and covered in white fur with pink spots. At least Jesus assumed he was male, as it was a bit difficult to tell. The demon was sporting white and pink clothing, bold eyeliner and boots that stretched up his thighs, close to the shorts he was wearing.

He had two eyes, but they did not match one another - the right had a pale yellow sclera, pink iris and black pupil while the left had a deep purple sclera, pink iris and no pupil at all. His legs were jointed oddly as well, like a dog's hind leg. Then again, all demons here were odd. Even the short girl, who looked mostly human except for the fact her skin was gray and appeared to have an X in her left eye.

Jesus shook off the peculiar sight and sighed. "Alright, I suppose I'll have to let myself in." He moved to enter when Charlie snapped back into reality and words began to tumble out of her mouth. "What is the Messiah doing down here in Hell? Shouldn't you be, uh... in Heaven?" Jesus smiled. "Well, yes. But I'm down here because my Father has asked me to watch someone." His gaze shifted to Angel Dust. "To watch you, in particular."

Angel took a step away from the door. "Wait a second, whoa whoa whoa. You're not... Jesus, are you?" he asked nervously. "I am." Jesus responded, smiling upwards at the demon, as he was standing up straight. Angel's eyes narrowed. "You're kidding! This isn't about that... whole thing, is it?" The smile dropped from his face. "You burning down one of the few holy places down here? Yeah, it actually is." Vaggie's head snapped back to Angel. "That was you!" Charlie turned to her patient. "You burned down a church?" she asked.

"A cathedral, actually." said Jesus. "Now, may I come in?" The princess backed out of the doorway, allowing entrance for the man. Jesus looked around. The 'hotel' was not in very good condition, but he could tell renovations had started. Red wallpaper was on the walls, and portraits looked like they were either being put up or taken down. A red carpet had been layed down the hallway, decorated with apples and eyes.

The entrance hall still had a bit of work to do, crates and furniture pushed up around the edges. A bar that clearly did not belong sat near the front door, which appeared to also serve as the front desk. Everything was different from the floor and up the walls, wood and stone instead of the red wallpaper. Wherever the two places touched a sickly green glow was present, making it stand out against the red.

"Nice set up you got here," Jesus said. Charlie looked down at her feet. "We're... still getting it off of the ground." He nodded. "Hmn. Where did that come from? It doesn't look like it belongs here." He indicated the bar. The princess chuckled nervously, pulling at her bow tie. "Oh, that? Uh... someone put it there." Jesus looked at the young woman. "Who?" he asked.  
"Err..."  
"Never mind. I'm going to be staying here a while to watch your _friend_ over here. Do you have any rooms available?"

Charlie looked up. "You're staying here?" she asked in surprise. The Messiah nodded. "Well, there's really nowhere else to go and you seem like the most hospitable people around, so this seems to be the only option I have." Charlie smiled uncertainly. "Uh... thanks?"

"No problem. Now, about a room..." Charlie stood up straight. "Of course! Right away. Now if you'll come with me, uh, Mister Jesus." She led him down the hall, and gestured to a room on the right. "This room is right next to our patient's. I'm sure you'll have no trouble keeping an eye on him there." The Messiah nodded. "Alright, thank you." he said, opening the door and stepping into his room.

Just before he shut the door, Jesus heard the girl speak.

"Welcome to the Happy Hotel."

He closed the door.


	5. The Hunt

The deer ran through the forest as fast as its small legs could carry it, terrified. The runner was a young, a buck of about fifteen weeks. His antlers were only beginning to grow, sprouting from the top of his head. It was night, a dark purple sky showing through the foliage of trees. The fawn was alone; his mother had been killed only a minute ago. He was running for his life, tail between his bony legs.

The young buck caught his foot on a root and tumbled through the bushes, small branches snapping and leaves scattering. Rolling head over hoofs, he rolled disgracefully down a hill, smacking into trees and other plants as he made his violent descent. The small deer crashed into a large rock protruding from the ground, and an awful crunch was heard as his leg shattered. Tumbling into a shallow stream at the bottom of the slope, he whined, emitting a pitiful sound of anguish.

The now-injured fawn stumbled clumsily to his feet, shivering from the freezing water, crying in pain and lifting his broken, bleeding leg. The bone was protruding in several places. It wasn't broken, but shattered. There was no way he could escape what was after him now. He pressed on anyway, hoping for a place to hide his presence from the predator.

It had been horrifying, watching the thing manifest from the shadows. It had stalked up directly behind his mother, and before he could warn her, it had bitten into her neck and torn her throat out, a violent spray of red showering the green, cool leaves. It had been very tall and thin, covered in red. However, it had a very curious scent. It had smelled like most of the other predators, the scent of blood and death, but also like himself, a deer.

The thing was clearly no average deer. It had watched in satisfaction as the fawn's mother slumped to the ground, blood staining her neck and dripping into the rich soil. It had turned to look at him and bared its sharp yellow teeth in a gigantic maw, now splattered with his mother's blood. He had run, terrified of the beast, afraid of what it would do to him if it ever got its claws into his soft white-speckled hide.

He limped into a small crevice of rock, whining slightly when his shattered leg came in contact with the rough, cold stone. The deer curled into the small space, attempting to compress his body as much as possible, smaller than the stone he had broken his leg on minutes before.

The buck sat and trembled in silence, awaiting his fate.

  
He wiped the blood from his face. The doe had been delicious, but there was still another one remaining. It was small, but it seemed there was probably enough for a plate. He was going to have a proper dinner with that one, knife and fork instead of his gloved hands, which were now soaked in blood. He would have to try and wash it out later, though it was not going to be an easy task. But now? Now he had to find the fawn.

Alastor began to stroll through the dark forest. Blood dripped from his chin onto his dress shirt, and he wiped it away with a hand, resulting in a smear of crimson across his face. He was wearing his usual attire; a torn red suit stained with blood, dress shoes that were also covered in blood, and stained burgundy gloves. A monocle rested on his face, the chain blowing in the slight breeze.

It was a cold night. The black moon was high in the sky, nearly full but not quite; most of the pentagram seemingly engraved on it could be seen. The other pentagram above the clouds glowed brightly, casting dim red light on whatever it touched, which was not many things down here. The foliage was thick and nearly no natural light could penetrate the leaves.

A path had been carved through the brush; likely his dinner. His smile grew slightly wider, disappearing into his hair. He paused. A pair of glowing red eyes were trained on him. A low growl emitted from the bushes. Whatever the beast was, it was large. Leaves rustled in the breeze. Alastor stared into the eyes, daring the beast to emerge.

A red paw stepped out of the brush, clawed. The rest followed soon, revealing a large wolf. Its fur was a deep shade of crimson, natural or otherwise. Its eyes were the source of the glow, bright in the darkness. It circled the intruder and growled, evaluating wether to attack or leave him alone.

It chose to leave the demon, crawling back through the brush, red tail flicking as it disappeared. Alastor chuckled to himself. _Wise decision,_ he thought. He continued on the path of destruction, unfazed by the beast which had been up to his waist. Of course if it had chosen to attack, it would have been a small effort to eradicate the animal.

The broken branches and scattered leaves led him to a hill. Alastor trailed it with his eyes, watching how the deer must have tumbled down the slope, crashing into things and breaking others. A rock halfway down had a bloodstain on it, still fresh. He descended the hill in a second, appearing at the bottom as a shadow before taking on his solid form.

Alastor crossed a small stream in a step. He stopped and listened. Whimpering, not too far away from his position. The fawn must have crawled into a hole to hide from him. It had not succeeded. He began to creep towards a small collection of rocks, piled on top of one another, misshapen. The whining was coming from inside. Alastor's smile grew ever wider, resembling a snarl rather than a grin.

Alastor began to walk slowly around the pile, ensuring his prey could hear every step he took. The whining grew louder as the small deer realised it had been found. He knew he couldn't outrun the predator. It was finished and he was going to be dead. The footsteps grew even louder as the beast converged on him. Two long legs came into view, and a hand covered in blood grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. The predator pulled him out of his hiding place and lifted him before its predatory eyes.

Alastor studied the small fawn now trembling in his clutch. It was very young, still covered in small white spots. Its antlers had only begun to grow, two stumps on its forehead. The bloodstain on the rock became clear; one of the deer's legs had been shattered, bits of bone sticking out, blood dripping down its ankle. Alastor tutted. "Looks like you've hurt yourself," he mused. The deer shook even harder, terrified of him. "Don't worry my little friend. I'll put you out of your misery."

In one swift movement, he snapped its neck.


End file.
